The Arms Of Hercules

by Fred Saberhagen

  But by the time we had returned to the landing place, the sun was setting, and the Argo and its load of heroic voyagers were long gone. Only a couple of the less sophisticated natives stood and gaped at us. For a time I stood on the muddy riverbank, now and then chucking a pebble into the stream, my mind busy with unsettling thoughts and mixed emotions.

  When Enkidu told me what the men who threw him into the pool had said, I realized that the heroes' whole object in so treating him had been to delay me.

  I had to face the fact that the Argonauts, or at least a strong faction among them, did not want Hercules adventuring with them. They were jealous of the glory that I would win when their serious adventures began; and resentful of the fact that they would appear weak whenever they were compared to me.

  "So," I said aloud, when understanding finally forced itself upon me. Now I felt resentful, too, and yet buoyed up with a strange, sullen pride in my own peculiar nature.

  "What do we do now, Unc?"

  "I don't know."

  He brightened slightly. "Well, we could just walk back to the—"

  "No! That's one thing we're not doing, just walking back to the Pool of Pegae. We are not going to spend our whole lives there." Tiredly I looked up and down the riverbank. "I wonder if there's a real port around here somewhere?"

  "We might not need one, Herc. Because here comes a boat. Maybe we can ask whoever . . ." And Enkidu's voice trailed off.

  Yes, indeed there was a boat. Here it came, a small, strange, trim, single-masted craft the exact like of which neither of us had ever seen before. It came sailing silently around the nearest upstream bend of the little, nameless river to put in just where we were standing.

  I had no need to look twice to recognize the tall figure that stood up in the boat and stepped ashore.

  Hermes, the patron of thieves and honest merchants, as well as travelers and athletes, was still carrying his staff with its carven serpents, but was no longer using it as a boatman's pole—this craft was moving under some other, invisible, means of propulsion. He had discarded his long cloak in favor of a simple tunic, and I could see again that he wore winged Sandals, as well as the familiar winged and broad-brimmed hat.

  "Hail, Hercules," Hermes greeted me in his resonant voice as he drew near. "I bring you the reward I promised—and also a message from your father."

  "Hail, Lord Mercury," I responded. "When am I to see him?"

  "That is difficult to say."

  "I thought it might be." Suddenly the memory of the day's sport in the deep pool seemed only tiresome, a distraction best forgotten as soon as possible. "Well then, where is Daedalus?" I asked the god. "There are matters I would like to discuss with him."

  "He is busy working on the Boar," Hermes answered shortly. "And both man and beast are far away from here by now."

  "Working on it? Do you mean butchering the creature, for some feast or sacrifice?"

  It seemed to me odd that Mercury had to consider that question before he answered it. "Neither sacrifice nor feast," he allowed at last. "But there is a kind of butchery involved."

  Moments passed, in which little waves slapped at the small hull of the new boat, which had been painted a plain white.

  "All right." I sighed, and felt my shoulders slump. "I cannot compel a god to answer questions."

  "I am glad, son of Zeus, that you realize that fact."

  "What message does my father send?" I asked.

  The Messenger seemed to relax a bit. "He wishes you well and urges you to travel on as quickly as possible to the island of Corycus."

  Once more Hermes had surprised me, and for a long moment I could only stare at him blankly. I of course knew something of Corycus, where grew the legend of the Minotaur, and where the real Prince Asterion, who was my counselor in dreams, must live; but I could see no connection between this new demand and any of the other efforts I had made so far.

  Mercury seemed ready to take my silence for agreement. "Also, I am pleased to offer you the first part of the reward you have been promised." With a gesture he indicated the little boat. Though neither anchored nor grounded, it did not drift off in the current, but remained just where the god had stepped from it, its prow barely touching shore.

  "A boat?"

  "Yes."

  I gazed at the small vessel without understanding, while it bobbed lightly in the water. "Whose is it?"

  "Yours, if you will accept it as the promised portion of your reward."

  "It is not what I have asked for. You still refuse me that."

  Mercury did not reply.

  I sighed. "Somehow I was expecting that great gods, like yourself and Zeus, would offer more than just a boat—something in the nature of a fabulous treasure."

  "Would you prefer a fabulous treasure?"

  "I have told you, Lord Hermes, what I would prefer. Well, I suppose the boat may well be useful."

  "I assure you, son of Zeus, it is no ordinary craft." The Messenger's voice was solemn.

  Once more I studied the vessel, but still it looked quite ordinary to my untutored eye. I saw the name, Skyboat, emblazoned in two languages on the prow. "Just what makes it so special?"

  "For one thing, it will help you to complete your journey to Corycus very speedily."

  "I see. A gift to the workman of a new tool—so he can more quickly accomplish his work. Well, what sort of monster am I to wrestle with when I get out to that island? Maybe an octopus, or a bat? Where do you want the creature delivered, and should it be alive or dead?"

  "When you are on Corycus, it will be better if you can avoid wrestling, and highly advisable that you do no fighting at all. You are going there to meet a being of very unusual appearance, but he is no more a monster than you or I."

  "I assume you mean the man some call the Minotaur," I said. "More properly known as Prince Asterion. Daedalus, before he rushed away the last time, did his best to enlighten me about the prince."

  "I am glad to hear it," said Mercury. "For in fact Prince Asterion is your half brother."

  I had already been vaguely aware of that fact, but to hear it stated plainly made me stop and think.

  Now Hermes seemed ready to depart, leaving the boat behind; the wings on his Sandals and his hat were twitching, and now he rose effortlessly into the air, graceful and easy as a hummingbird.

  "Who is to pilot the boat for us?" I called after him, in something like alarm.

  "No pilot will be needed," Mercury responded calmly.

  I looked in bewilderment at Enkidu, who was looking back at me with a similar expression on his face.

  "But neither of us knows anything of the sea," I protested to the god. "We're likely to drown ourselves before we're out of sight of shore."

  Hermes paused momentarily in midflight. "You do know something of the compass-pyx, and of its use?"

  "I've never touched one, nor has Enkidu. We saw a little of the instrument they were putting aboard the Argo. All the sailors on board remarked how fine it was."

  "The one in your new boat is finer still. It will serve you well no matter how great your ignorance. But to save time I will detail a certain sprite to help you."

  "A sprite, Lord Hermes?"

  "A creature usually attached to the Twice-Born, Lord Dionysus. You will not see it, but you will have help with the boat when you need help. Also your new servant can do duty as a messenger. If you should happen to make some great discovery, you will be able to communicate it quickly to the gods or humans who are your friends."

  And Hermes pointed toward the boat.

  I found nothing new to see in that direction, and when I looked back again to where he had been standing, the God of Merchants and Thieves was gone.

  Enkidu could hardly have known any more about boats than I did, but he was desperately impatient to give this one a trial cruise. We climbed in and gingerly shoved off into a river that invited the experiment by being almost calm.

  The boat drifted in a straight line, or so it seemed, with
none of the aimless turning I had been expecting.

  Enkidu was enthralled. "Uncle, this is even better than the Argo! This is a damned sight better!"

  "Not as big, not by a long way."

  "But this boat we don't even have to row!"

  Mercury had been out of sight for some time before Enkidu and I got around to wondering exactly where the Argonauts might have got to by this time. They had talked of heading east, but that was about all we had been told.

  "When we have finished whatever we are supposed to do on Corycus," Enkidu suggested, "we might get in our boat and look for them. If this compass-pyx is as good as it looks, it could probably find the Argo for us."

  "No, they sure don't want us with them. Certainly they don't want me, so to the Underworld with them. Besides, I suspect that when we have finished whatever is to be done on Corycus, my father will have thought up yet another task."

  My nephew nodded, and let drop the matter of the Argo and its crew, so jealous of their fame. Enkidu hardly seemed to care where we were going next. I think I might have ordered him to set course for the Underworld, and he would have complied, so long as the journey could be made in our beautiful new boat.

  Chapter Twelve

  Visiting a Queen

  Before heading out across the sea, my nephew and I put in at a small settlement a quarter of a mile downstream from where the Argo had landed, almost at the river's mouth. It seemed about the only place approximating a real port on that sparsely inhabited coast. Here we were able to obtain some decent clothing, that we might present a proper appearance at our arrival on Corycus, and also some food for the voyage. Small lockers aboard the Skyboat already contained jugs of water and several days' supply of fruit, dried meat, and fish. But Hermes seemed to have ignored all other needs that a crew or passengers might have.

  The townsfolk stood staring after the two of us as we carried our purchases aboard, and that night we slept in the boat. Early in the morning, with our audience reassembled and gaping at what they must have supposed to be our folly, we awkwardly (and doubtless incorrectly) hoisted our small sail. Enkidu closed his eyes and pressed his forehead to the compass-pyx. The Skyboat began to move, propelled directly by its own magic, and we set out boldly through the mouth of the river and into the open sea.

  Our destination, the locals had warned us, lay about two hundred miles to the southeast, half the width of the Great Sea away. They marveled at what they thought was the stupidity of two landlubbers, attempting such a feat in a small and practically open boat.

  In the press of other concerns, I came near forgetting what Hermes had said about detailing a sprite to help us through any difficulties we might have with navigation. But so far it seemed we might be managing on our own. When Enkidu had moved away from our compass-pyx, and I cast my untutored eye at it, it seemed to me that Hermes had been right, and it might surpass even the model they were carrying on the Argo, of which Tiphys had been so justly proud. Our navigational device was just as big, and the box that housed it was made of real ivory, as far as I could tell, and the carved and painted patterns on the surface of the box were more complex.

  The style of construction of our craft provided a tiny cabin, just about large enough to shelter two people, if they crawled in on hands and knees and could endure each other's closeness. The sail proved to be almost entirely for show—fortunately, for neither of us knew the first thing about sailing—though later it proved perfectly capable of functioning in the ordinary way. It also filled itself out with a phantom breeze when there was no real wind in the direction chosen by the steersman. There were no oars, but a couple of paddles had also been shipped aboard, again mostly, as I thought, for show. Skyboat was perfectly capable of propelling itself by sheer magic.

  At this time, I sorely missed the company of Daedalus. I was keenly aware of my need of a wise counselor, but the only confidant I had, had now attained the ripe age of thirteen. So far, for my nephew, our wandering had been mainly a series of glorious adventures, culminating in a chance to sport with naiads. And to top it all off, he had now been provided with a wonderful new toy in our magic vessel. Small wonder that at the moment Enkidu was perfectly convinced that the world was an endlessly wonderful place.

  As the two of us put out to sea, I caught a brief glimpse of a girl with hair almost the same color as Danni's, hard at work bending her slender, nude body over a fishing net on a nearby beach. It was of course not Danni. But I found myself wishing fervently that Meleager's sister might appear onshore and wave good-bye to me; far better yet, that she should be waiting to greet me when I landed somewhere. But alas, she was naturally nowhere in sight, being miles away.

  Somehow the sight of one girl, and the thought of another, evoked in my mind the thought of yet another very different one. The face and body of Megan, our unhappy household servant as I remembered her, appeared briefly in my imagination; but as I sat in our little boat, Megan seemed to me to belong to a different world, one that had little or nothing to do with the one I now inhabited, away from home adventuring. And at the moment, her very remoteness invested her with a kind of glamour that made her all the more desirable.

  * * *

  The weather at the start of our voyage looked a trifle ominous, and had either of us any real experience of the sea, we might well have been frightened at what we were about to attempt. But in this case our ignorance was a shield. While Enkidu, clutching the compass-pyx and gloating over the power it gave him, confidently set our course, I sat thumping my hand gently on our new boat's solid side.

  So, this construction of wood, canvas, and magic was the reward I had been promised. Certainly not what I had asked for, but real and solid, and if the Messenger had told the truth, quite marvelous enough to be the gift of some benevolent god. Solid proof, if any were needed, that Hermes was no mere impostor, or creature of my imagination. The whole game had now been raised to a different level.

  We had been under way only a few minutes, gradually picking up speed, before all land had dropped from sight behind us. But still our boat, under the control of the magical device given us by Hermes, ran straight and with unhesitating speed. Since my life now depended on it, I wanted to find out as much as I could about how it worked. I reminded myself to ask Daedalus when next I saw him. Possibly the compass-pyx was too magical to fall fully into his realm of expertise, but I would try him anyway.

  It was installed in a containment box, or binnacle, very near the exact center of the boat, and the four side walls of the ivory compass were connected, with magical effect, to the corresponding walls of the binnacle in which it rested.

  The first time I put my head near the compass-pyx, the air nearby sounded with a thin whining from some invisible source. I jerked back nervously and looked about, one hand raised to swat a giant insect. But there was no such creature to be seen.

  "You hear some buzzing, Herc?" Enkidu was grinning at me. "I did, too. But it didn't do me any harm."

  Sudden realization dawned on me. "Lord Hermes said that he was leaving us a sprite to help us navigate." And as I spoke, the humming sound peaked sharply, then fell abruptly away.

  My nephew looked more interested than worried. "What will it do?"

  "Not much of anything, I hope, unless we need its help." Actually I knew no more of such beings than Enkidu did, but I wanted to be reassuring. "Try to use the box again; the less help we need, the better."

  He followed my advice and had such good success that both of us were able to forget for the time being about our invisible companion.

  My main concern was with more basic and important problems, on which I doubted that the sprite could give me any help. Nor could Enkidu, surely. All the great business of my life lay between me and the gods. I kept turning over in my mind what facts I thought I had made sure of, and those I only suspected, regarding my past life and what I might expect in the future.

  Whatever faint doubts I might once have had that Zeus was really my father were becoming hard
er and harder to sustain—from what other source could I derive my special powers? And everyone agreed that the Thunderer's children were legion, scattered around the world along with his more remote descendants, all products of his obsessive lechery down through the ages. But rarely if ever, according to legend, did he sustain any interest in any of his bastard children. So I was less than confident it was really Zeus who had sent the Messenger to give me orders and to provide a magically powered boat. Mercury, speaking with all the lordly authority of deity, had clearly said as much—but was the God of Thieves and Merchants always to be believed?

  Soon I began to share my thoughts with Enkidu, who was wondering what made me so silent and thoughtful. My nephew and I speculated as to whether we might someday be treated to an interview with Helius, the Sun, or maybe Apollo himself. Or possibly Hera or Aphrodite.

  Of course the gods, as usual, provided an inexhaustible subject of conversation.

  "Herc? I've been wondering."

  "What?"

  "If your father is . . . who he is . . . then why does he need to send you all around the world, beating the shit out of these monsters? He could just . . . just smite them with a thunderbolt."

  "How in the Underworld should I know? Why did he insist on our hauling the Boar around, alive, if they were going to butcher it anyway? Maybe it just amuses him to watch. He never tells me anything."

  "But now you're making a great effort to do what he wants you to do."

  "Well. He is my father. Though he's never spoken a word to me since I was born."

  "I know, you keep telling me that."

  And that put an end to conversation for a time.

  "Corycus is where the Minotaur lives," Enkidu observed, after a period of thoughtful silence.

  "Are we back on that again? You should have been paying attention when Daedalus was talking to me, and Hermes, too. You'd better not use the word Minotaur at all when we get to Corycus. He's Prince Asterion, half brother to Queen Phaedra, and like me, he's a son of Zeus. And Hermes wants me to talk to him."

  "But he's really got a bull's head?"